Never Back Down: The Narcissist
by hockey10
Summary: Kyle Jay isn't the nicest of guys, but has good intentions. Picking up immediatly after the events of the original Never Back Down, Kyle, a veteran of the fight game, is pursuaded into fighting again. Only this time, his story is destined for the pros.
1. Chapter 1

**Good First Impressions**

"My ass hurts, and that goddamn music you play sucks my fat--" Lawrence Jay was cut off as he hit a hole in the street, his head bobbling quickly.

I, Kyle Lawrence, laughed happily at the pride he took in false 'size' Jokes. "It's funny because God isn't allowing you to finish that sentence, bro. Oh, and this music is better than that shitty techno stuff you listen to. I mean seriously, what the hell is that sound?"

His box face went red and his knuckles gripped the wheel so hard they turned pale. I saw him grinding his teeth through his large square (and glass, as I've come to learn in our 'unacquainted sibling' adventures) jaw. His temper is what gave him the nickname of 'Rope Dope' from our father. It was like he expected the wall to protect him from blows to the gut coming from the _other_ direction. His green eyes were strained and his head began to shake slightly. To my surprise his foot didn't act as a weight on the gas pedal of our (well, his because he's older) old Ford Junker.

"Fuck you," The words came out so fast that I nearly didn't hear them.

I didn't really want to anger him more than he already was (we'd probably get a DUI or something for his driving, assuming we didn't already get one for his normal driving 'skills', and I definitely use that word lightly), but his fast speech managed to get a humorous snort out of me. My pale face relaxed as I laid my head back for a second, my thin lips smiling and my blue eyes shutting.

Lawrence put his foot on the gas for a few yards and then slammed on the brakes as hard as his foot would allow him.

The jerk caused the seat belt to lock and as I rocketed forward; the cursed thing violently choked me, making me gasp. I breathed in a panicked manner, shaking my head as I began to laugh and cough at my brother.

"Welcome to Florida asshole. Border check is up ahead," he chuckled.

"I fucking hate you," I growled.

"Ditto,"

---

I left the apartment complex with a backpack seemingly full of bricks. The Mountain Terrain backpack on my back was practically shitting me dead with the weight of my senior year books. I should have passed my Driver's Ed test, then I might be driving the clunker or even a car that didn't fart when you started it.

I waited at the bus stop, my head hanging down in a loner's sorrow, and stared at my shadow as if I hated its spirit. The whine of an engine made me look up, my eyes only meeting a red haired kid with a fat lip and a bruise on his shoulder half hidden by his blue shirt. He had a black two door car that was nice and shinny, and it appeared to have no windows (but that was wild guess.[should be a ;] [remove..]Just that I just couldn't imagine windows on the stupid thing, for God knows what reason).

"You headed to school?" he asked.

"More like waiting for it to come to me. And it's…" I looked at my watch, "…ten minutes late."

"Need a ride?" he smiled, an incomplete show of friendliness with all his missing teeth.

_This guy looks like shit_, I thought. "Are you hitting on me? Sorry bud, I don't swing that way,"

He simply laughed. "Nah, man, just looks like you need help,"

I sighed. "Fuck it. How long's the ride gonna be?"

He looked into the air as if he were fishing for the words he wanted to say. "Fifteen minutes, if the streetlights aren't bitches today."

So I got in this stranger's car. Living previously in New York (and this guy being somewhat of a fat ass), I didn't mind taking rides from strangers. That's what Taxi rides are for in the first place. "Let's roll!"

He put the car in drive and began to go down the road. At the first red light, he asked me, "So, what's your name?"

"Kyle. Again I ask, are you gay? Answer as truthfully as possible, please. I will not discriminate… much,"

He sighed. "No, I'm just a cool guy that likes to help people instead of fight them,"

_The lesson learned, by look of this guy_. "What's your name?" I pushed out in attempt to be friendly.

"Max Cooperman," he laughed, "And you shouldn't be such a dick to the guy that's giving you a ride…"

"I would play nice, but I have suspicions that you will rape me in the backseat of your car," I said.

"This car doesn't have a back seat, dude," Max pointed out.

"Does it really matter? Either way if you attempt to rape me I will cut your dick off," I warned.

"You, dude, have creepy fantasies…"

The small war of friendly (more friendly on his side of the argument) insults went on until the end of the ride, and I said a short thanks to the guy for giving me a ride. I then hauled my goliath backpack from the seat and disappeared into the crowd of Orlando city high-school students.


	2. First Social Conflict

**First Social Conflict.**

My eyes blurred as I began to lose concentration in the middle area of my second period classroom, Language Arts--English—Whatever the hell that long and nasty word they had conjured up to confuse teenagers.

In the row in front of me was a blonde girl with blue eyes; she was in a dress that seemed to be more expensive then a penthouse. She was giving love-eyes to a guy next to her; he only glanced at her every couple of minutes. I personally had my eyes practically glued to her back side (like every other guy behind or next to me).

I was sure that the guy sitting directly behind me was (just to my luck) a hardcore meth abuser. I'd seen them before- my brother being one of them for two years back in New York. I slapped him straight in the face whenever he was high. That's how he beat acne. I popped every single one of the damned buttons on his face in two weeks. Anyway, the guy behind me was repeatedly asking me what the answers were until I finally responded, telling him to stare at what I was staring at and then ask me if I knew the answer. The pale boy, with a facial structure that resembled a deformed skull, asked again. I gave no response.

The period dragged on slowly and painfully, and the urge to punch the stoner behind me grew stronger. His eye sockets being as deep as they were, no one would ever notice the black eye. Finally the bell rang. The dumbass didn't even hear it. When I exited the classroom, I took my map out of my pocket and looked to see where my next class was. It was located directly across campus; the class being math. I was going to cut myself.

I lugged my backpack across campus, the hot sun beating down on me and making my backpack feel even heavier than it did three seconds before. On my way to the class I decided to take a shortcut through the football field bleachers. Behind me was a giant of a man, six foot three and two hundred and ninety pounds, I estimated. His long sleeve Trojans shirt hid his arms, so I wondered if he was a bag of hamburgers or a steel structure. I didn't really give a care, but it was an entertaining thought.

As he strolled by me, I smiled and let out a comment. "Supporting the practice of safe sex, are we?"

His massive hand grabbed me by the face with a grip so tight; it was like he grew claws to dig into my skin with. Even so, he threw me two rows up. I was confused at his sudden reaction and moaned as pain spread through my back. I got myself up on weak legs and made my way down the bleachers, back towards the kid with condom shirt on. When I was close enough to him, three feet away and facing the back of his head, I lunged at him with a fist. It connected, making his head jerk forward, but doing nothing else.

He stopped, turned, and smiled. As I began to pronounce a profound word, his right hand hit me square in the forehead, and I dropped with a thud onto to the ground, a huge cloud over my train of thought. As I lay there, not unconscious but definitely shocked, he grabbed my legs and hoisted them up to his sides. He began to drag me, his head twisted back so he could see behind himself.

My eyes managed to see through the fog in my brain, and I realized what my current predicament was. I also took note that it could be improved. Quickly, as he put his right foot back and his left forward, I grabbed his left ankle, and he looked down.

He tried to shake off my grip but it was locked there, and so he kicked with his right foot. I grabbed that leg's ankle as it came in, which was practically an inch from smashing my ribs. I then slid my knees up to his chest and pulled his feet towards me, toppling him over and allowing me to rise into a full mount position.

I grinned as I saw his face go pale and his mouth gape open in surprise. I got up and began to walk off, but then turned around and said, "You have anger management problems, friend!"

I got past the football field and, as I exited the premises, I saw a boy around my size holding up a phone, obviously videotaping the scene. I gave him a thumbs up and smiled for the camera. "Fucking queer," I muttered as I walked away.

---

I looked in the bathroom mirror and put a tissue against my forehead, which I had just discovered was bleeding. The large boy's knuckle had cut my forehead open, and my tending to the wound had made me about ten minutes for my next class (not that I'm complaining about that).

Some of the blood ran down my nose and dripped onto my lower lip, and when I wiped it away it created red streak. I then balled up the tissue and held in my hand as I dug through my backpack before pulling out a roll of scotch tape.

"It'll work," I said to myself…


	3. Meeting one group

I stepped into the math classroom with a piece of toilet paper scotch taped to my forehead. It was balled up in a way so that it looked like a white clown nose was growing out of my brain. I looked at the blackboard to see the teacher, who was a bony old man with seemingly no muscle structure. He had a forty pound head, making him look like a Chihuahua, for this man was built in a form that was structurally impossible.

He smirked and dipped his head, hiding a high pitched laugh. "Mr. Jay, I presume?"

I turned my head to the class, and saw giant ice cream smiles on every

single person in the premises. The stoner was among them, his eyes as hypnotized as possible. "Yeah, that's me…"

"Please, take a seat… sir," A snort blew from his nose. "and you're twenty minutes late, by the way."

_Fuck you, too_. "Guilty as charged," I mumbled. I went and sat down next to my chimney-like friend.

"What happened to you, dude?" he asked, suddenly coughing.

I looked at him. "Ronald McDonald came down from the heavens and blessed me with a second nose that resembled his," I said as a small stream of blood ran down my nose and dripped onto the desk. "See? It's already turning red."

The roach abuser wheezed in a saddening attempt of laughter and then laid his head on the table, his head shaking as he kept 'laughing'.

I felt a tap on my shoulder and looked to my left. A blonde haired guy with a somewhat long face and partially squared jaw was laughing as he looked at my face, his own turning red.

"Who the hell are you?" I asked.

"Ryan--" Another burst of laughter, "McArthy."

"Well, asshole, would you kindly shut the fuck up? I mean, if it's not too tiring to do so. You wouldn't to pop your blow-up muscles. Tell me, is it safe to sleep with those air bags on your arms?" I poked his arm, finding that his bicep was surprisingly firm.

The dumb blonde's laughter suddenly ceased.

"Hey, new kid; you ain't making a very good first impression to the guy that practically owns you."

I smiled. "So, wait, I'm in your concentration camp? Well, you do look like a Nazi, I suppose."

"I own this school, man. You're walking on my property, so get out of the way or you're mine." He smiled as if he intended to intimidate me.

"You're rather arrogant; I could tell within the first five minutes of seeing you. I mean goddamn." My smile faded and I turned away to face the wheezing stoner. "So, who are you?"

"Jonas Days, and you, dude, have brass balls." he answered in that dazed voice of his. His grey beanie slipped over his eyes for a second, and then he brushed it back onto his forehead. His jacket's smell and the dust made me cough twice.

"Well, nice to meet, Jonas; I'm Kyle," I extended my hand, not expecting his skeletal bone structure to be able to shake it.

---

A giant gray ball of moist shit (to describe it accurately) dropped into my plastic tray with a gag-worthy sucking sound. I looked up at the lunch server; her eyes were dull and boring, matching her white suit and hairnet. "Fuck you, too," I muttered.

"Why I never--"

"Heard that before? Cut the shit, you old fart," I replied dryly.

"I'm going to report you," she hissed, but I was gone before she Could ask for my name.

As I looked around at all the lunch tables (also noticing how fucking big this place was) and found that Max kid sitting with another guy (unsurprisingly) and that girl I was staring at in English class. _This should_ _be fun,_ I thought to myself.

I sat down next to Max and looked at the guy next to me, recognizing that he was who the sweet blonde was staring at during English class. At this point, I was practically burst out in laughter, realizing how many comedic opportunities I had at the moment. "Hi, everyone," I said, smiling.

Max looked at me, "So, you have no other friends?"

"Not necessarily. I met who I presume is the class president and a guy who does more drugs than every rock band from the sixties and seventies put together. It's a great crowd here." I said flatly.

Max looked at my forehead, "Dude… there's something on your face…"

I ripped off the piece of toilet paper, revealing a rather large cut, "Yeah… just don't ask how I got it,"

"You got in a fight the first fifteen minutes of school, eh?" Max smiled and I could see him holding back a chuckle.

"No. I got this trying figure out how a urinal worked here. It seems that

you have to be rich to take a piss in a public bathroom which smells like fat people sweating," I looked over at the girl's boyfriend (or at least that's what I interpreted). "So who wears the pants in this relationship?" I asked smugly.

"I do," they both responded. The boy looked significantly built and the girl looked like the kind that would play with a boy's mind by shoving his face in her breasts.

"I vote her for president," I pointed at the girl, preferring what her method seemed to be. I certainly wouldn't mind.

She smiled at the boy and he shook his head disgustedly. "So what's your name?" she asked.

"I'm Kyle," I said, my gaze slipping down to her chest. "And yours, baby?"

"Look at me and I'll tell you."

"I am looking at you."

"Look up."

"I refuse."

"Fine, I'm Baja, and it's a pain in the ass to meet you,"

"And it's been a pleasure to mine to meet you, too.

"Hey, man, push off," the boy broke in, snapping a finger in front of my eyes.

I looked up at him. "Oh, I forgot about your toy. Name, please?"

"Jake Tyler, and could you not stare at her?" he asked, though it sounded more like a demand.

"It'll be very hard, but fine," I replied before I looked at Max.

"Just when I thought you were gay..."


	4. Dreadlocks Fight Card

The credits I had earned in school the past few years had earned [me] a ticket out the school gates at 1:00 PM every afternoon. The person who followed me through those gates that day surprised the hell out of me.

"Jonas, are you ditching class?" I asked.

He smiled. "Hey, smart ass; you're not the only guy with brains in this school."

I laughed. "Surprisingly."

"Actually," Jonas looked back. "There should be someone else coming in a few minutes."

"Why isn't he out now?"

"He's actually a she, and she spends a bit of extra time the girl's bathroom."

I shook my head with a look of confusion on my face.

"It'll all be explained in time."

I shrugged the confusion off momentarily and asked him, "Do you have car?" Shit. I shouldn't have asked. This guy shouldn't have a license.

"Nope but she does." He pointed at a girl with red highlights, a pale white face, and all black clothes as she came down the steps of the main gate.

"She your girlfriend?" I asked as we stopped to wait for her.

He chuckled. "Nope."

"Yeah," I laughed. "Like you could get any action."

She caught up with us, holding a key ring with six or seven keys in it. "Hey, Jonas, I saw this totally hot chick in the bathroom. You would've loved her clothes, they were so tight!"

Jonas broke out laughing. "Kyle" he puffed, "M-meet Amanda."

I smiled, holding back a laugh. "Nice to meet you, Amanda."

"And you, too… uh…" She looked up, searching for "the right" word. "…dude."

"Name's Kyle." I said. "And I kinda need a ride."

"Cool, where do you live?"

-

The next day at school was very interesting. On my first day of school I had befriended a stoner and a dyke (that fact was established during the car ride home), and I got in a fight. I guess it was socially productive, but I realized the guy I fought was a setback when he met me in the hallways after math. Behind him was Ryan, a black guy with dreadlocks, and a tall and large guy.

"Look, Condom, I don't want any trouble." I sighed.

"Then why you calling me condom?" He coiled his hand into a fist and drew it back.

"Click click…" I said as he did so.

He released the fist and I caught his wrist and twisted it to the left so he would go down to my height. Then I clocked him in the nose, breaking it. "Boom, motherfucker."

"Shit!" he yelped as I released him. He bounced up, holding his nose; blood trickled from between his fingers.

Ryan's mouth dropped in surprise. "So the internet video does not lie."

I looked up at him, ignoring Condom as he bitched on the floor, his blood now all over the place. "What was that, Mr. President? Oh, yeah I can kick your ass."

"So you are a fighter!" he said in joy.

The black guy went to Condom's aid. "Ryan, I think his nose is broken."

"I know that." I said.

"I wasn't talking to you dumbass!" Dreadlocks snapped back.

"Hey, cool it, Eric!" Ryan said. "That sounds like fun." He smiled at me.

"What, me beating your ass to a pulp? Yeah it does!" I laughed.

"Yeah, but not yet. I'm gonna set up a fight between you and Eric," he pointed at Dreadlocks and pulled out a piece of paper and pen out of his pocket. "Show up here Saturday at around 6:00 PM. Post fight will be fun. Trust me."

"Wait a minute," I put up a finger. "You want me to fight Dreadlocks over here?"

"Yup." Ryan's smile faded. "what, you don't want to?"

"Yeeaah, no." I smiled. "Sorry,"

"C'mon, the whole school already knows about you and Don." Ryan insisted. "Please!"

"I should've kicked that fag with the phone's ass then and there, dammit!" I looked up at Ryan.]"So what, is you're little fight club like a championship competition or something?"

"Kinda." Ryan said.

"So if I win enough fights, do I get to go at it with the kid with the phone?" I asked.

"You mean Jerry Ways, the guy that recorded your fight?"

"Yeah, whatever his name is,"

"Yeah, actually." Ryan said, "He's actually a pretty good fighter."

I smiled.

-

The lunch court was full of people (I had to shove my way through a congested hallway to get to the court itself) and it was hot as fuck on that day to begin with. My face was red and I was almost drowning in sweat. My armpits looked like the hair on a girls head after bathing in the pool. They didn't smell as good, though.

I sat down next to Amanda and across from Jonas. He smelled worse than me, but though he smelled like smoke, not my toilet. He had gotten rid of the beanie but he now had a camouflage jacket and a hat with pockets on it to match it.

I looked at him with dull eyes. "I suspect that your pants have the pattern of a confederate flag you fucking red neck,"

Jonas laughed. "I was going for the Army look, dick."

"Dude," Amanda cut in. "you smell like shit."

I smiled and looked her. "I have no response for that at the moment," I looked back at Jonas. "Hey, Jonas Brother,"

"Fuck you," he said.

I chuckled. "That Nazi I met in math class, Ryan I think it was, offered me to do a fight with some black fag with dreadlocks called Eric. You think I should?" I looked around at our table and, before I let him respond, I said, "We are the only people at this table. What, you guys can't make friends?"

Jonas sighed.] "Yeah, well, a dyke, a stoner, and an asshole don't go very far up in the social ladder around here." He had a moment of silence and then suddenly his eyes lit up."Wait a minute!" he exclaimed loudly. "If you could win a fight-"

"That I could do," I said.

"-then you could get all three of us to kick ass parties with beer and hot chicks every weekend of our lives until college is over." Jonas was practically standing in his chair.

"You had me at hot chicks." Amanda said.

"You," I pointed at Amanda. "are creepy, and you," I pointed at Jonas."have no fucking clue what you're talking about. How the hell is this gonna score all three of us babes when we're in college? This is high school, dipshit. I mean, you should know this, you have a fucking 4.0."

Jonas smiled. "The underground fighter does good in college when he goes pro, man."

I laughed.


	5. Figuring Things Out

I sat up in my bed the next morning and looked at my walls. Three of the four of them were blanketed by belt promotion certificates, pictures, and ribbons that ranged from last to first place. One of the ribbons, I noticed, read "A for Effort." Under it I had written in sharpie, "I tapped 'cause the fag had a boner in a jiu-jitsu match!" I remember that I was about seven when I wrote that.

I had Boxing and cage fighting belts on the floor in a pile next to my closet. I was too lazy to organize them all. Three were for Karate and Tae Kwon Do competitions, I remembered. With me having trained since I was three in nearly all commonly know fighting style in America, those fights were relatively easy.

I walked into the kitchen with my backpack, which was packed with half-done homework, a banana and a Yes on Eight propaganda poster so I could show its discriminatory deliciousness to Amanda's face during lunch. My jaw dropped.

The kitchen and living room were a wreck. The flat screen (Where half of my life savings went to buy) had a rubber fist in it, and there pieces of our coffee table everywhere. Some pieces were hanging from the roof, held there by duck tape. The couch was torn in half, with dad's legs on one half and his chest and head resting on the other. His beer gut drooped in between, scraping the floor.

Mom was wearing her green PETA shirt and had passed out on the kitchen table with half a raw stake in her mouth. My brother had his face mashed into the cake that was placed on her belly. He was wearing nothing but a banana hammock, much to my horror.

The thing that no rational thought gave me a reason for it to be was what was written on the wall across from me. The words "FONDLE THE NUGGETS" were written in red crayon across the wall, the letters so tall they went from floor to ceiling.

My natural response to what I saw: "What the fuck…" I went over to my brother, pulled up a chair, and sat down with a straight face. I grabbed his hair and pulled his face the cake. Mom groaned. I flicked Lawrence's eye and he slowly open his eyes to slits five seconds later. "Alright, Captain No Nuts, what happened last night?" I questioned.

He half smiled. "Puff Powder in lil' baggies make the world go 'round on clouds!" He sang in soft voice.

"Thanks, asshole." I placed his head back into the cake and got up. I left the house without any other thought than, How the fuck did I sleep through a plastic fist made for homosexual pleasure going through my TV screen? "Someone had their daily dose of meth…" I muttered.

The bus was late again. This time it was by fifteen minutes, so I was getting impatient and made a mistake. I was waiting for Max. Unluckily, the rapist showed up in his all-black thunderbird. He rolled down the window with a grin on his face.

"Look who got fucked again. Need a ride, dick-weed?" He laughed.

I looked him straight in eye and asked, "How did you get those black eyes and cuts?"

"I fell." He said, his happy-go-lucky tone drifting off into the distance.

I got in the car and threw my backpack down between my legs. "Bullshit. Who fucked you up?"

"No one. I-"

"Fell? Fuck you. I was offered a fight by a guy named Ryan McArthy. You know him?" I asked, cutting him off.

"Yeah. What does this have to do with it?" He asked.

"Well, I'm pretty convinced he fucked you up big time." I said.

"Oh, yeah? He pulled over and looked me dead in the eye. The school bus passed us up while he was rape staring me. "What gave you that idea?"

"Well, there's…" I gestured at his face, "…that, and from what little conversations I've had with Mini Hitler, he seems like the Don King of the Florida Fight Club scene."

Max nodded.

"So I remembered that you told me something about helping people instead of fighting them when you first drove me to school. I put two and two together and made a hypothesis that Ryan is some kind of unstoppable fighter in you guys' tool and bimbo land and so he must have beat that lesson into your head. Right?" I smiled.

Max put in drive and drove me to school wordlessly.

I was staring at Baja's bra strap in English class again, this time with Jonas at my side doing the same; only he was holding a small bong in his hand under the table. He took hits whenever the teacher wasn't looking. None of the students seemed to mind.

Jake sat next to her in the row in front of and kept us from giving her love eyes the entire class. Meanwhile, I was resisting the urge to snap back the strap and Jonas was getting toasted, probably doing something along the lines of what I was doing as well.

When the bell rang, I followed the couple, who were holding hands, outside of the classroom. When Jake broke off next to the bathroom to relieve himself, I followed.

I took to urinal next to his on the wall. "Jake, I'm gonna be straight forward with you here. I don't have to take a piss, but I'm here to talk to you."

He turned his head and gave me an awkward stare. I heard the ringing of liquid hitting tile when he did so.

"Hey, look where you're aiming. Remember, unlike me, you're actually urinating." I smiled, staring at the wall.

He looked back, shuffling with his pants and almost jumping. "What do you want, asshole?"

"What do you know about Ryan McArthy?" I asked.

"Well… he's an ass, but he's not that bad."

"I figured out the first part." I said, "But you have the hottest piece of ass in school and with his Don King and unstoppable fighter reputation, I know he had a piece of the pie at one point. That sweet, sweet, pie."

"I beat him for it, but ain't fighting again." He said, flushing the toilet.

"I like how you referred to her as 'it', there, buddy," I said, turning around.

"Fuck you," He said flatly in the hallway, me trailing no too far behind him.

I caught up to him, "So you're a fighter?"

"Yeah," he said, "What's it to you?"

"He offered me a fight with a black guy with long dreadlocks called Eric. Is there gonna be some kind of catch?"

"Well, I don't really care, but if you go, you have a great party and a chance to get your ass beat in front of the entire school."

"Well that sounds like fun."

"It is. Kinda."

"Hey, Amanda!" I said as I exited the lunch line three people behind her. "I got something to show you."

We sat down across the table Jonas, who was so high at this point that he eyes were spinning like a slot machine. "What is it?" Amanda asked.

"Well I have this poster for you." I rifled through my backpack for it and pulled it out while it was rolled up like a scroll. "I just thought that you'd like this poster because of your special interests." I unrolled it and showed it to her. I left that day with a red mark on my face.

**I dedicate all previous chapters and chapters to come (and this one, of course) to my betas, ****whisperasweknowit and ****Lustful Li. I only take credit for the idea. Everything else to them. **


	6. In piss and blood

The Piss Bag.

Jonas' eyes spun uncontrollably as he took the burnout hit of his third bomb joint. He tossed it onto the couch while the ashes of the paper were still glowing orange. He leaned into the coffee table and took a puff. He coughed out smoke that went into the air of a mansion on something of a dream street to me. The houses were lakeside and each had three stories minimum.

I shook my head across the room as I held a red cup filled with root beer, watching Jonas stone himself. I was relaxed, living in the moment, not a muscle in my body tense. Perhaps it was the mota burning in the air, maybe it was the three cans of Lysol one of Jonas' fellow stoners sprayed five minutes ago thinking he was going to get a high off of the smell of roses. Whatever it was, it made me forget about the coming event and relax.

"Kyle," Jonas said in a steamed voice, "You ever had a blowjob?"

"No. You?" I took a sip out of my cup.

"Seriously?" he coughed out in astonishment. "Dude, I'm getting you mouth fucked tonight!"

"I asked if you've ever had one. Oh, and I doubt Alison will even consider touching man parts. She should have been born with a penis, and with the way she looks, her dick is probably bigger than mine." I said.

"Uh… yeah, I totally got one…like last week." Jonas forced a smile.

"Since that's a lie, I'm pretty sure a pathetic fuck like you would call a sex line?" I got up and headed towards the sliding doors and out to where the pool was. The balcony overlooked a lake with a grassy beach. Jonas got up and followed. He dropped his roach as he rose from the couch, fumbled around for it, and finally looked in between the sofa cushions. He pulled it out, along with a vibrator disguised as a tube of lipstick.

When I saw him ask one of his buddies what it was, I laughed hysterically when they replied saying it was a "Pussy crayon."

He came to me with a dipshit look on his face and asked me: "You know what a pussy crayon is?"

"Yeah," I said, "it's like a scented Crayola that smells like fish." I walked out and nodded happily as I watched all the girls on the balcony. None of them were fully clothed, not much else besides bikinis was worn outside. Of course, all the guys were dressed normally. Only we get to be horny without advertising it.

Ryan came out of the stoning room with Eric, who was bouncing up and down nervously and crossing his legs as he stood, by his side. Ryan shoved Jonas as he passed him. "So Kyle, are you ready."

"Is Bouncy ready?" I asked with a smirk.

Jonas blasted through both of them, a joint in between his fingers and another in his mouth. "Fuck yeah my boy is ready! I told him to fight this fight!"

I grabbed Jonas by the shirt collar and pulled him so close I could see the weed between his teeth. Does he eat that shit? I thought before saying, "Shut up before I burn you with your own lighter, you stoned dipshit." I threw him back and he stumbled into the pool, landing on a girl in a small bikini that was drifting along in a rubber raft and dropping his spare joint into the water.

"Hey, baby, you want a hit?" he asked, taking the roach out of his mouth and extending it to her.

"Yeah, I guess." She popped the joint in her mouth and shoved him into the pool, a relaxed smile on her face as she inhaled the toxic smoke.

"Yeah," I said after watching Jonas fail. "I'm ready."

A crowd gathered around us as Eric stepped forward, sweating as if he had already gone two rounds. He wasn't scared or excited. His nose twitched and his feet crossed when he stood still. If he knew anything that was worth a good shit about striking, it was that he should always keep his legs based out, and that he should never cross them over like that.

"No gloves?" I asked, looking at Ryan.

He shook his head. "Lakeside brawlers borrowed all of mine."

"Alright then," I said as I put up my guard. "Let's fuck shit up."

Eric put up his guard and we circled each other in a boxing stance for a couple of seconds. The crowd of drunken teenagers went nuts when they saw the fight was on, and instead of really paying attention to everything Eric was doing for the first few seconds, I listened to the crowd.

He caught me with a jab to my nose that woke me up instantly. I looked him dead in the eye and took a step into range. He backed up, dropped his guard and bounced around with that same look on his face and then went back in my range with his guard.

I saw his chest move as he extended his arm to jab, and clocked him with a snap jab of my own, then stepped in and slammed an elbow across his cheek.

He backed up again, lowered his guard and as he bounced awkwardly I ran in and push kicked him in the sternum, dropping him.

"Kyle!" I heard Jonas scream from behind me; "Come over here!"

I backed up quickly, for he was getting back up. "What the fuck. If this guy wasn't an idiot, I'd come up here just to push you back in the water. Waduya want?" I jumped back in the center of the circle, clinched Eric, and swept him with my right leg, kneeing him as he went down. I went back to Jonas. "As you were saying?"

"He has to take a piss." Jonas said.

I nearly laughed at his stupidity. "You're still high aren't you?" I glanced back at Eric, taking note that he was still moving and working his way back to his feet in a dazed manner.

"Yeah, I am, but you know what that means don't you?" Jonas smiled, and then put out the joint he had in his fingers in the plastic cup or beer the guy next to him had.

"Enlighten me."

"Well, if you kick him in the piss bag he'll pee himself and then all the people here will laugh at him." He still had that stupid smile on his face.

I snickered, "If I knew what you meant, I might have to do it."

Jonas sighed, "You don't know where the piss bag is?"

"I'm not stoned, Jonas, therefore my focus isn't as great as yours at the moment. Otherwise, I would know where it's at."

"Kyle!" Eric yelled from behind me.

"One second." I said and then jumped back in the ring with Eric and we circled each other in a boxing stance once more. He shot for a double leg form two feet away and I sprawled, cross-facing him with such force it was almost a clothesline.

It broke his nose. He sucked it and kept pushing forward, his hands scraping at my calves as he desperately tried to grab them.

I grabbed his scalp and smashed into the concrete, then pushed him back up so that he would stand up with me. When we stood facing each other, he was almost falling over, taking baby steps so he wouldn't fall over as he went for me. I stepped back to Jonas and told him to continue.

"The piss bag," he explained, "is right between the crotch and belly button. Got it?" He lit another joint.

"Got it." I stepped forward and got rattled by a stiff jab surprised me and pissed me off. I shoved him back in anger and threw a vicious side kick right in bellow the belly button. His pelvis was black and blue.

His eyes dilated. He dropped to his knees and his face went white, and the crowd cheered as if they had just witnessed some miraculous act of God. I smiled as I felt the frustration in my stomach die down. As I walked back to Jonas, I saw Jake Tyler looking at me from the second floor balcony. I smiled.

"Dude!" Jonas jumped in front of me, "you are going to be amazing!"

Ryan McArthy looked back at me from Eric, who was crying on the floor with pee stains on his shorts and half the school laughing at him, with astonishment in his eyes.


End file.
